


The Sweetest Leaf

by Sauronix



Series: The Sweetest Leaf [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Banter, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 21:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10727514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauronix/pseuds/Sauronix
Summary: "It’s an aphrodisiac," Ignis says. Gladio looks up at him, sharply, and finds his green eyes almost black with lust. "A powerful one, if the state I’m in is anything to go by."Shiva help him. Listening to Ignis—dignified, proper, uptight Ignis—talk openly about what’s going on in his pants is going to be the death of him."What’re we gonna do?" he asks. He could jerk off in the bathroom, but Ignis would know, and that would be weird. Wouldn’t it?Ignis seasons a meal with a leaf he found in the wilderness...with unintended consequences.





	The Sweetest Leaf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PorcelainLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcelainLove/gifts).



“Hey, Specs!” Noctis pops his head through the doorway of their room at the Leville, Prompto hot on his heels. “We’re going out to grab some pizza and beers. Don’t wait up for us, all right?”  
  
Iggy pauses in his inventory of their luggage just long enough to frown at the two of them. “Are you sure that’s wise? It’s getting late.”  
  
“Aw, c’mon,” Prompto whines. He’s already tugging at Noct’s arm, clearly anxious to get out on the town. “I’ll be with him. It’ll be fine!”  
  
“Let ‘em go, Iggy,” Gladio says, even though he has half a mind to join them. A beer sounds nice. But his leather pants aren’t exactly compatible with Lestallum’s heat, and he can already smell the funk of his own ball sweat. Nah, a nice, long shower is just what he needs. “Doubt they’ll come across any daemons here. Besides, a night off from babysitting sounds real nice.”  
  
“Babysitting?” Noct rolls his eyes. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. See ya.”  
  
And they’re gone.  
  
Ignis clicks his tongue and goes back to rummaging through his suitcase. He’s got his annoyed face on—the one where he looks like a four year-old after a tantrum, complete with pursed lips and glower. Gladio watches him for a minute, forgetting the book he’s got open next to him on the bed.  
  
“What are you looking for?” he asks.  
  
“The Folia Dulcis we collected from the Myrlwood yesterday,” Ignis says. He puts his hands on his hips and frowns at the rumpled shirts in his suitcase. “I was hoping to try it in a recipe tonight. I paid for a suite with a kitchenette for that very reason.”  
  
“I think we left it in the car.” Gladio scratches his belly. He could definitely go for some food right now, especially if Iggy’s cooking. “What’re you making?”  
  
“A coconut curry.”  
  
“Mmm. Sounds tasty. You sharin’?”  
  
Ignis raises an eyebrow, a smile quirking his lips, and sits down to pull on his shoes. “Yes, of course. I never cook just for my own pleasure, as you know.” He stands again, patting the pockets of his jacket before spotting his keyring on the bedside table. “I’m going down to the car to get those ingredients. While I’m gone, you might consider showering, Gladio. It will take weeks to air your aroma out of the Regalia.”  
  
Ouch. He tips his head to sniff at his armpit. “Oh, come on. It’s not _that_ bad.”  
  
“I assure you it is.” Ignis pulls open the door. “You’ve merely become so accustomed to your own bouquet that you can no longer detect it.”  
  
With that parting shot, he leaves, locking the door behind him. Gladio closes his book and drags himself off the bed with a groan. It’s too damn hot to move. At least in his opinion. The heat always affects him worse than the others. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Prompto complain about it, and Ignis is still wearing his damn leather jacket.  
  
Gladio, on the other hand, feels like he’s got an inch-thick layer of sweaty film on his skin. Yeah, a shower’s definitely a good idea.  
  
He stands under the spray until it runs cold, giving his armpits and crotch an extra scrub, just in case. The Leville’s soap and shampoo bottles tell him he’s lathering up with Banana Cream Pie Dream, which sounds like something Iris would use. Oh well. Better than reeking like a dirty gym bag that’s been sitting in someone’s overheated trunk for a week.  
  
He pads back into the room, clad in a tank and sweats over a pair of boxer briefs, to find that Ignis has returned. He’s shed his jacket. Now he stands at the table by the kitchenette, the sleeves of his grey dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, and pours coconut milk into a measuring cup. A pile of chopped cauliflower sits on a wooden cutting board next to three green leaves, each hued purple at the tips. They’re the Folia Dulcis Ignis had him picking out of a bush yesterday.  
  
Gladio towels off his hair as he watches Ignis work.  
  
“You smell like a sorority house,” Ignis says without looking up.  
  
Gladio smirks, slinging the towel around his neck. “How the hell would you know what a sorority house smells like?”  
  
“Call it a hunch.” Ignis pours the coconut milk into a pot he has simmering on the stove, then stirs it twice with a wooden spoon. “Pass me the curry powder, won’t you, Gladio?”  
  
Gladio hands him a small glass container filled with a spice blend the colour of burnt orange. Ignis measures out two tablespoons and adds it to the pot.  
  
“Need help with anything else?” Gladio asks.  
  
Ignis shakes his head. “I think I can manage, but I appreciate the offer.”  
  
Shrugging, Gladio drops onto his bed and buries his nose back in his book. It’s nice, spending time with Iggy like this. He can actually get some reading done, unlike in the car, where Prompto always feels the need to fill a silence. Don’t get him wrong. He’d take a hit for the guy, but sometimes enough is enough. And unlike Prompto, Ignis embraces the quiet. He doesn’t demand conversation.  
  
As it stands, Gladio gets so engrossed in his book that he’s startled when Iggy announces that dinner is ready. He looks up to find that Ignis has already set the table and ladled him out a bowl.  
  
“It smells great,” he says, getting up to join Ignis.  
  
“Well, hopefully it tastes as good as it smells.”  
  
Gladio pulls out a chair and sits. “It always does, Iggy.”  
  
They eat in companionable silence, too, looking out the open balcony doors and onto the rooftops of Lestallum. By now, the sun’s almost dipped below the horizon, but a few golden rays glow on orange tiles, illuminating the sparrows that hop from one to the next. Idly, he wonders what Noctis and Prompto are up to now. They’ve probably had their pizza by now. Maybe they’re already at the bar, well on their way to drunk. Maybe Noct’s playing wingman for Prompto. Gladio smirks at the thought, scraping the dregs of Iggy’s curry from the bottom of his bowl.  
  
The poor kid doesn’t have a hope in hell of getting laid tonight if Noct’s all he’s got in his corner. He’d be better of with someone who actually knows how to talk to women, someone with a bit of charm and sex appeal. Not to blow his own horn, but maybe someone like Gladio. There’s a certain entertainment value to watching Prompto wriggle, but all the same, he’s glad he stayed in. This kind of peace and quiet doesn’t come by often.  
  
He tries to clear up the dishes, but Iggy waves him away, so he returns to his bed to read some more. At first, everything’s fine. He’s full of delicious food, and there’s something soothingly domestic about the chirping of birds paired with the clatter of Ignis washing the dishes in the kitchenette. Hell, he could probably fall asleep right now.  
  
But then he starts to feel weird.  
  
His face goes hot first. Sweat beads on his forehead, even though he’s been lying still with the bedside fan blowing on him. He shifts and wipes his face with his arm, trying to ignore it. But then the heat in his face begins to spread to the rest of his body. It tingles in his fingertips and toes, settles in the pit of his belly.    
  
Perhaps more worrying is the fact that his dick’s getting hard. It really, really shouldn’t be. It’s not like he’s reading porn, for fuck’s sake. Bewildered, he closes the book and looks at the title on the spine. _A History of Lucian Kings._ Yeah, not sexy at all.  
  
He sneaks a glance at Ignis and finds him still standing at the sink, but he’s apparently given up on the dishes. He’s leaning on the countertop with both hands, his head bowed. Gladio can see the heavy rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes.  
  
“You okay?” he asks.  
  
“Hmm?” Ignis turns his head a fraction, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Ah. Yes. I was just lost in thought for a moment.”  
  
Gladio nods. Sounds almost reasonable. Except Iggy doesn’t just get distracted when he’s in the middle of a task. Iggy’s the kind of guy who has a to-do list a mile long, and Ramuh help the poor asshole who tries to stop him from checking off every single item on it. Nah, there’s something weird going on here, and not just in his own pants.  
  
So Gladio squeezes his thighs together, willing his rogue erection to calm the hell down, and watches as Iggy clears away the rest of the dishes, as he leans against one of the chairs and wipes his forehead with his sleeve.  
  
Ignis takes the latest issue of _Lucian Cuisinier Quarterly_ that’s lying on the table and fans himself with. “Is it getting warmer in here?” He tugs at the collar of his shirt, popping the top button open.  
  
Yeah. Yeah, it is. The room feels hotter than Ifrit’s ass crack. Way hotter than it did a few minutes ago.  
  
Gladio’s eye strays to the slice of pale skin revealed by Iggy’s open collar. All of a sudden, he’s desperately interested in what Ignis keeps beneath his perfectly pressed pants and starched shirt. Now that he thinks about it, he’s never seen Ignis in anything less than a tee and sweats. Whenever they camp, he’s always fully dressed and whipping together their breakfast before any of them have cracked an eyelid. At motels, he changes in the bathroom. And Gladio doesn’t think he ever shared the communal showers with Iggy in the gym back at the Citadel.  
  
His brain starts to supply him with fantasies of what Ignis might look like naked. He’s probably pretty toned under his clothes; no one could pull off the acrobatics Iggy does without some major core strength. Gladio pictures lean thighs and a hard chest, both lightly furred, and a carpet that’s a few shades darker than the drapes. As for Iggy’s cock—  
  
No! Shit. No. He can’t go there.  
  
“Iggy.” Gladio wipes a forearm across his face. His own dick’s as hard as adamantoise shell now, trapped between his thigh and the leg of his boxer briefs. “What the hell did you put in the food?”  
  
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Ignis says.  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“I am positive.”  
  
Gladio gets up and goes to the counter. The leftovers are sitting in a bowl next to the fridge, still cooling. He examines them. Cauliflower. Garlic. Tomatoes. Coconut milk. Curry powder. Nothing strange. Nothing that should be having this kind of effect on them. Nothing that—  
  
Wait.  
  
“What about those leaves you put in there?” Gladio asks. “The ones we got at the Myrlwood? Think they might be the culprit?”  
  
“The Folia Dulcis?” Ignis says. A crimson flush creeps up his cheeks, and oh, fucking Six, did he just adjust himself through his pants? Gladio tries not to stare at his crotch. “It’s supposed to have a bittersweet flavour, that’s all. No side effects that I’m aware of…”  
  
Ignis digs their field guide out of his suitcase. He flips through it, pauses, and brings the book closer to his nose. He frowns, then starts flipping again, more hastily this time, until he finds what he’s looking for. He reads it in silence before letting out a groan.  
  
“What?” Gladio asks.  
  
Ignis stabs at the page with his index finger. “This is a Tentiga leaf. It looks just like the Folia Dulcis, except the tips of each frond are purple.”  
  
“How did you mix them up?”  
  
“I didn’t mix anything up.” Ignis pushes his glasses up his nose, managing to look disapproving in spite of the flush on his cheeks. “If you’ll recall, I asked you to help me pick them. Only you could make such a mistake, Gladio.”  
  
Gladio scowls. At least he tries to. He’s too distracted by the insistent throbbing of his erection to actually be annoyed. “Sure. Blame it on me.”  
  
“I assure you I would never make an error of this magnitude.”  
  
“Yeah? Well, you obviously didn’t double-check before you stuck it in the curry.” Gladio moves to the table and snatches up the field guide, all too aware of how close he’s standing to Ignis. The desire to touch him is like an uncontrollable itch just under his skin. “‘Native to the Myrlwood, the Tentiga leaf has many medicinal qualities. Its oil can be used as a topical salve to treat burns and minor abrasions. When consumed, it induces a state of arousal that lasts…’” He swallows hard as he absorbs the meaning of the words. “‘…for anywhere between four to six hours.’”  
  
“It’s an aphrodisiac,” Ignis says. Gladio looks up at him, sharply, and finds his green eyes almost black with lust. “A powerful one, if the state I’m in is anything to go by.”  
  
Shiva help him. Listening to Ignis—dignified, proper, uptight Ignis—talk openly about what’s going on in his pants is going to be the death of him.  
  
“What’re we gonna do?” he asks. He could jerk off in the bathroom, but Ignis would know, and that would be weird. Wouldn’t it? Gods, he can’t stop looking at Iggy’s lips. “Will it really last for six hours?”  
  
“I don’t know, Gladio. I’ve never been in a situation quite like this before.”  
  
“Should we go see a doctor?”  
  
Ignis just laughs at that, but it’s incredulous, not amused. “And tell him what, precisely?”  
  
“I dunno. ‘Hey, doc, my dick has a life of its own. Help?’”  
  
“I doubt he’d be able to do anything for us. We’ll just have to ride it out.”  
  
Now he pictures Ignis sitting on his cock, stark naked, his head thrown back in bliss as Gladio fucks him with merciless thrusts. He actually has to bite down on a moan. What the hell is wrong with him? He’s never slept with a guy before. He’s never wanted to sleep with a guy before.  
  
But for whatever gods-forsaken reason, he can’t stop thinking about this particular guy’s full bottom lip and how nice it would feel on his dick.  
  
“Well, we gotta do something,” he says, panic creeping into his voice. He curls his hand into a fist to stop it from twitching toward his erection. “Don’t think I can sit here like this for fifteen minutes, much less six hours.”  
  
Ignis clenches his jaw. “And we certainly can’t go outside in this state.”  
  
Gladio runs a hand over his mouth and nods at the bathroom. “If you wanna go in there and take care of things—”  
  
“I hardly need your permission—”  
  
“Permission? I ain’t trying to give you permission. Just letting you know—”  
  
“We wouldn’t even be in this situation if you’d just paid attention to what you were picking.”  
  
Gladio glares at him, but the drawn brow and pinched set of Iggy’s lips are more pained than spiteful. He’s leaning on one arm against the back of the kitchen chair, almost doubled over, with his other arm crossed in front of his crotch like he’s trying to cover up his hard-on. Well, it’s too damn late for that. Gladio can see the ridge of it through his pants.  
  
He gestures impatiently at the bathroom. “Are you gonna jerk off or not? ‘Cause if you’re not, I sure as hell am.”  
  
Ignis doesn’t say anything. He just bites his lip and looks at Gladio like he’s trying to work something out.  
  
Fine. If Iggy wants to stand here and suffer through a raging boner for hours on end, that’s his problem. Gladio growls and moves toward the bathroom, his arm brushing Iggy’s sleeve as he pushes past him.  
  
That’s when Ignis seizes him by the strap of his tank top and yanks him into a crushing kiss.  
  
The shock of it paralyzes him, like his body’s become detached from his cerebellum. His fingers twitch, wanting to touch, to pull Ignis closer, to respond to the soft, warm lips that move over his mouth. But he can’t. The roar of his pulse in his ears drowns all the thoughts in his head.  
  
As if sensing his hesitation, Iggy draws back. His eyes search Gladio’s, wide and vulnerable, looking for permission. “I apologize if that was unwelcome. I just thought it would be better—”  
  
Whatever. Gladio would probably let a cactuar suck his dick at this point.  
  
He shoves Iggy up against the wall and kisses him again, more rough, maybe, than he should. But Ignis gives as good as he gets. He leans into the kiss, letting out a relieved groan, and Gladio pushes his tongue past those pliant lips to take his mouth. Six, Gladio should’ve known he’d taste like this—of heat and Ebony, of ginger and saliva. Eager for more, he closes his hands around Iggy’s biceps and brings their bodies flush together, until he can feel Iggy’s cock against his thigh.  
  
Yeah. This is a lot better than jerking off in the bathroom.  
  
Ignis closes his eyes and tips his head back, offering Gladio the pillar of his throat. For a stunned couple of heartbeats, Gladio just watches the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. This close, he can see Iggy’s five o’clock shadow, can smell the sweet, woody fragrance of his aftershave. He never gave a second thought to any of it before. Now, all he wants to do is press his face into Iggy’s neck and fuck him until neither of them can think anymore.  
  
He brings his lips to Iggy’s skin, placing an open-mouthed kiss just under his jaw, where his pulse thunders. At the same time, his fingers fumble with the buttons of Iggy’s shirt, but his hands are shaking so bad he can’t slip them through the holes. He starts to tear at them instead. A few of them come off their threads and plink to the floor, rolling under the bed and the dresser and who the hell knows where.  
  
“I’ll have to sew those back on, you know,” Ignis chastises.  
  
“Don’t care.” He speaks into Iggy’s ear, trailing his fingers up bared ribs. At his touch, Ignis shivers, his head falling back against the wall. “Worry about that shit later.”  
  
They kiss again, wet and sloppy, their tongues delving into each other’s mouths. When they come up for air, Ignis says, “Turn around.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Ignis raises an eyebrow. “I think I made myself clear.”  
  
Shit. Gladio knows better than to argue when Iggy uses that tone. He turns, and Ignis puts an arm around him, pulling him backward until his shoulder blades touch Iggy’s chest. Then his hand finds the hem of Gladio’s tank and rucks it up, bunching the fabric under Gladio’s armpits.  
  
That hand starts to explore. It runs over his pecs with a possessive confidence, grazing one hard nipple, before it trails down his abs. His touch feels like embers sparking on Gladio’s skin, stoking his desire. By the time Iggy reaches the drawstring of his sweats, Gladio’s breath is coming fast and shallow, his cock desperate to be touched.  
  
Slowly, Iggy’s thumbs hook into the band of his pants and underwear, pushing them down just enough that Gladio’s cock springs free. For a couple of seconds, Ignis does nothing. He lets the moment draw out. Gladio can only look down at himself, at the washboard abs that expand and contract with every breath he takes. Below that, his dick quivers, dripping precome.  
  
“Iggy, please,” he says with an unsteady voice.  
  
Ignis finally puts a hand on him, and he thinks he’s gonna combust right then and there.  
  
He moans as Ignis starts to stroke him from root to tip with a clinical expertise. The other hand cups his balls, rolling them gently in his palm. And as Iggy works him, his hips rut against Gladio’s bare ass, the steel of his clothed cock settling between his cheeks. Holy shit, it’s good. So good. He never thought someone else’s cock could turn him on this much. Sucking in a shallow breath, Gladio grinds back against that dick, his feverish gaze locked on Iggy’s hand as it jerks him off.  
  
“Is that all right?” Ignis murmurs.  
  
“Yeah.” Gladio reaches back, over his shoulder, and takes a handful of Iggy’s hair. It’s soft. Softer than he thought it would be. He imagines burying his face in it as he pushes Iggy into the mattress. “You can do it a little faster.”  
  
Ignis quickens his pace, and Gladio can’t help himself. He thrusts to meet each of Iggy’s downward strokes, letting out a grunt when Iggy’s thumb slides over the head. His balls are so gods-damned tight. All he can hear is the wet sound of his foreskin sliding over his dick. His hips buck uncontrollably into Ignis’s grip, the muscles in his thighs spasming as he feels the tug of orgasm in the head of his cock, and oh, shit, he’s gonna bust—  
  
Ignis’s hand retreats right before he reaches the edge. A choked sound wrenches from Gladio’s throat. The only thing holding him upright is Iggy’s body at his back.  
  
_Fuck._  
  
“Get undressed,” Iggy says into his ear. He’s breathing like he just finished running a mile. “And get on the bed.”  
  
Gladio practically falls down trying to get out of his clothes and onto the mattress at the same time. He loses his balance when he goes to kick his underwear off his ankle, but Iggy steadies him with a hand on his shoulder until he can crawl onto the bed. The sheets, at least, feel cool on his bare ass. He settles back on them, propping himself up on a pile of pillows, and watches hungrily as Ignis shrugs out of his shirt.  
  
In some ways, Ignis looks just like he imagined. In other ways, not at all. There isn’t an ounce of fat on him. The muscles of his arms and pecs and abs ripple under his taut skin. He also doesn’t have any hair on his chest, but there’s a dusting low on his belly, and when he leans over to drop his shirt on the back of the chair, Gladio catches a glimpse of dark hair under his arm.  
  
Six, even that’s hot. He strokes a hand up his dick in appreciation, smearing precome where the head lies against his belly.  
  
Iggy doesn’t take off his pants. He crawls onto the bed, into Gladio’s waiting arms, and rubs his clothed crotch against Gladio’s thigh. It’s nice. No doubt about it. He likes a leisurely fuck as much as the next guy, and now that he’s kissed Ignis, he wants to do it again someday, maybe for hours.  
  
But right now, his balls are starting to hurt.  
  
“You gonna take those off?” he growls, resting his hands on Iggy’s firm thighs.  
  
Ignis looks down at him, kneeling with one leg on either side of Gladio’s waist, and says, “I wanted you to do the honours.”  
  
Gladio licks his lips. He can oblige. The faster he gets Iggy out of his clothes, the sooner they can both come, and fuck, does he ever need to come.  
  
When Gladio pops the button of his pants, Iggy pushes himself upright on his knees so Gladio can tug them down and free his cock. Gladio takes a second to look at it as it bobs in his face. It curves upward, leaning a little to the left. A string of precome drips from the flushed head to pool on Gladio’s chest. As cocks go, it’s nice. Of average size, but thick and cut, and the skin looks so gods-damned soft he wants to drag his tongue over it.  
  
And he can smell it, too. It smells of musky sweat, of dick that’s been fermenting for hours in a pair of boxer briefs. He breathes it in and fresh arousal lances through him, raw and urgent.  
  
Gladio flicks his gaze up to meet Iggy’s eyes. “Never sucked a guy off before,” he says.  
  
As Ignis starts to respond, Gladio grabs an ass cheek in each hand, pulling him forward until that cock slides between his lips. Whatever Iggy was about to say comes out a shuddering breath instead. His hips twitch, but otherwise, he doesn’t move, except to brace himself on the headboard. Gladio can tell he’s holding himself back. Maybe he’s afraid of hurting Gladio, or pushing too far past his comfort zone. But Gladio doesn’t want him to hold back. Whatever the hell was in that leaf has torn down all his inhibitions.  
  
Right now, he needs to hear what Ignis sounds like when he comes.  
  
He lets Ignis roll his hips back, dragging his cock almost all the way out, before Gladio digs his fingers into his ass and tugs him back in.  
  
“Oh,” Ignis breathes.  
  
It takes them a minute to figure out their rhythm. Iggy won’t fuck his mouth, at least not actively, but he doesn’t resist when Gladio guides his movements. Gladio flattens his tongue along the underside of Iggy’s dick every time he withdraws, then flicks it over the head before he reels Iggy back in. It isn’t long until Iggy’s hesitant movements turn sinuous, until he’s pushing into Gladio’s mouth of his own volition. He tastes salty and bitter, and Gladio wants more of it. The needy sounds issuing from Iggy’s throat make his own dick pulse between his legs. But with Ignis kneeling over him, he can’t reach it.  
  
When the muscles under his hands start to clench, he knows Ignis is about to come. This time, he lets Iggy’s cock fall from his mouth, and then he replaces his lips with his fist. Gladio jerks him with short, fast strokes, his grip lubed with saliva and precome. As he does it, he looks up at Iggy’s face. He’s got his head tilted back, his eyes closed, his lip caught between his teeth. Shit, he’s gorgeous. He just wishes he had a better vantage point. Maybe next time—  
  
Next time?  
  
Will there be a next time?  
  
He hopes so.  
  
Ignis groans long and low, and his come spills onto Gladio’s chest. A rope of it splashes onto his lower lip. Unthinking, he darts his tongue out to lick it away, his hand still stroking Ignis through his orgasm. The thick texture is weird, but the taste of it isn’t bad. A little salty, with a hint of sweetness. Just like Ignis. In every way.  
  
He looks up again and finds Iggy trembling and clinging to the headboard, his eyes still closed.  
  
“You okay?” he asks.  
  
Iggy nods and pushes his glasses back up his nose. They’re fogged up, but otherwise unharmed. Gladio’s just glad they didn’t break them.  
  
He rubs his palm in gentle circles over Iggy’s thigh, urging him down into the sheets next to him. It takes them a few seconds to untangle their limbs, but then Iggy settles back against the pillow with a contented sigh, kicking off his own pants. He’s the perfect picture of post-coital bliss.  
  
Except Gladio’s cock is still very much hard, and very much in need of some attention. He’s been waiting so long, he’ll probably come in about two-point-five seconds after Iggy touches him.  
  
“So…” Gladio says.  
  
“So.” Ignis looks at him, his gaze sidling over Gladio’s body to rest on his cock. “What would you like me to do about that?”  
  
There are a lot of things he wants Iggy to do about it. His mouth would be nice, but his ass would be better. He just doesn’t know if Iggy would be cool with getting pounded. So he says, a tad impatiently, “Whatever you want. Just make me come.”  
  
Ignis nods and moves between his legs, and Shiva’s fucking tits, Gladio wants to cry when the velvet heat of his mouth engulfs him. The sound that leaves him—half moan, half sob—would’ve embarrassed him under any other circumstances. But he’s too far gone to care. His thighs are already trembling, his hips pushing up into Iggy’s mouth, desperate for friction. Ignis doesn’t try to stop him. One of his hands curls around the base of Gladio’s dick, stroking him in time with the drag of his lips. It’s probably the best fucking thing he’s ever felt in his life.  
  
But that could be the aphrodisiac talking.  
  
He lets out a ragged shout, his hips arching off the bed, and comes so hard his eyes water. Ignis doesn’t even gag. He just sucks him dry, like he’s done it a hundred times before, like he’s a fucking pro at dick-sucking, his hand gently stroking Gladio until he returns to earth.  
  
For a minute or two, Gladio can only lie there, trembling. He’s afraid to look at Ignis. Sure, Iggy was the one who made the first move, but maybe he was so desperate to get off that he didn’t care who did it. Just like Gladio.  
  
Iggy clears his throat. Gladio lifts his head and looks at him.  
  
“I seem to be erect again,” Ignis informs him.  
  
Gladio sighs and drops his head back against the pillow.  
  
Maybe they should stop picking weird herbs and shit out of the wilderness for awhile.

  
*

  
When he wakes the next morning, Iggy’s already gone. So are his suitcases.  
  
He’s not surprised. But in the light of day, now that his head’s clear, he’s actually a little disappointed. Is he embarrassed about what happened last night? Yeah. A little. Doesn’t mean he thinks less of Iggy, though. He sure as hell hopes Iggy doesn’t think less of him.  
  
Maybe they can pretend it never happened.  
  
He throws on yesterday’s clothes, slings his duffel bag over his shoulder, and takes the stairs two at a time to the lobby. Iggy isn’t there, either, and there’s no sign of Noct or Prompto. They’re probably still in bed, sleeping off their hangovers. That’s fine. It’ll give him time to pack the car and grab breakfast. He hands his room key over to the guy at the front desk and heads out.  
  
The Regalia’s trunk is open when he arrives, and he finds Iggy bent over it.  
  
“What are you doing?” he asks.  
  
Iggy glances up at him, then looks away just as quickly, his forehead creasing in a frown. “I’m looking for the rest of those Tentiga leaves. I think perhaps it’s best if we throw them away. For all our sakes.”  
  
“You think so?”  
  
“Yes, of course I think so. Do you want a repeat of last night?”  
  
Gladio hesitates, watching the way Iggy’s hair turns a honey brown in the sunlight, the way his pants hug his ass real nice when he reaches into the trunk. If he thinks about it hard enough, he can still feel that tight ass in his hands. He can still taste Iggy’s dick on his tongue.  
  
He does want a repeat of last night.  
  
Gods help him, he does.  
  
“You don’t?” he asks.  
  
Iggy emerges from the trunk slowly, as if Gladio’s a bear and he’s trying not to provoke him with any sudden movement. “Do you?”  
  
Gladio shrugs. “It was fun. And I’d do it again. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.” He looks Ignis right in the eye. “It’s up to you, though. I don’t want to make things awkward between us.”  
  
Ignis studies him for a second, then sighs and pulls off his glasses. “As unexpected as it was, I must admit I did enjoy it. I wouldn’t object to a repeat encounter.”  
  
When Iggy says it, Gladio releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.  
  
“So it’s settled, then.” He claps Iggy on the shoulder and pushes his duffel bag into the trunk. “We’ll keep the leaves.” As he turns, he sees Noct and Prompto ambling down the stairs toward them. Prompto’s face is whiter than milk, and he’s got his arms folded across his belly. Probably trying to hold in his barf after last night’s shenanigans. “Just keep ‘em far away from those two.”  
  
Ignis follows his gaze. “Rest assured, I shall.” And then he smiles at Gladio. Okay, it's more of a smirk. “I don't like to share.”

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and unedited. Apologies for grammatical, characterization, and pacing errors.
> 
> As usual, if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving kudos or dropping me a comment! I appreciate them more than you know. They keep me going. Thank you! :)


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